


Ficlet Friday Compilation

by MissusCissaMalfoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester UST, Dean is 21, Gen, M/M, Sam is 17, Sibling Incest, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissusCissaMalfoy/pseuds/MissusCissaMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Friday on my <a href="http://iluvjohnny.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a> I fill prompts for my followers. They will all be posted here. Tags will be updated following the addition of new chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester - General Audiences

**Author's Note:**

> Wincest prompt - Something cute where its late at night, and Sam is feeling cuddly. He's slightly drunk but not REALLY drunk; he's simply a little tipsy. But he still definitely knows what he's doing. He hobbles over to Deans bed and nuzzled into him. I'm looking for confused!Dean and cuddly!Sam, with looots of neck kissing and nipping and 'nose nuzzled' if you would. Dean doesn't push him away, but knows he should.

So Sam was drunk. So what? He’d gone out and used one of the fake IDs his dad had gotten made for him to get into a bar. He may have only been seventeen, and using a fake ID to get into a bar might have been more than a little illegal, but he really didn’t care. He was getting to the end of his rope with the way John treated him and his brother, and with him coming home he really hadn’t wanted to deal with him. John had called ahead to let them know he was coming back, and immediately Sam had left. Of course, Dean had tried to get him to stay, but he didn’t. Dean couldn’t control him, he was old enough to take care of himself, and they both knew that. 

Sam wasn’t  _really_  drunk. He was a little more than tipsy, having only had beer at the bar, but he wasn’t  _that drunk_ \- he wasn’t one to drink hard liquor, like his father or Dean. He preferred to stick with beer. Luckily, because he’d been drinking beers since he was thirteen (coincidentally, his thirteenth birthday was the first time Dean let him have one of his own), he wasn’t as much of a lightweight as other seventeen year olds might have been. 

He really shouldn’t have driven home, but he’d spent all his money at the bar. Besides, he wasn’t so drunk that he wouldn’t be able to drive, he was only drunk enough to lower his inhibitions a little. Make him a little more lighthearted - he’d always been a happy drunk, whereas John was an angry one and Dean a horny one. He went up on the curb when he took the turn into the motel parking lot. The bumping made him giggle, and he parked the Impala in a no parking zone, without even noticing. 

He also didn’t notice that his father’s truck wasn’t in the lot.

When he stumbled inside, it was dark, and he couldn’t stop himself from tripping over the table he  _knew_  was just inside, but for some reason, forgot. He landed face-first on the carpet and groaned when the lamp on the table tipped over the edge and crashed next to him. “Stupid fuckin’ lamp, always trippin’ over me…" he grumbled, and the light beside Dean’s bed flicked on.

"Sammy?" Dean sounded groggy, and Sam was sure he’d woken him up.

"Don’ call me that," Sam muttered, clumsily righting himself.

"M’tryna sleep," was the only response he got.

He didn’t even bother picking the lamp up again. He shuffled into the bathroom to take a piss, and when he came back out Dean was fast asleep again. His shoes were the only things he took off before plopping onto Dean’s bed, as if he’d completely forgotten his own was right beside it. Dean mumbled sleepily in protest, but Sam just crawled up next to him and slung an arm and a leg over him. 

"Sammy, stoppit," Dean groaned, pushing blindly at his arm and kicking at his leg. “You got a bed."

"I’on’care," Sam murmured, burrowing into Dean’s neck and breathing in his scent. He smelled like Old Spice, and the hotel soap, and Sam couldn’t get enough. “You smell good." His lips ghosted over Dean’s collarbone and he planted the lightest of kisses there. 

"Sam, m’sleepin’," he sighed, again pushing his arm off. “Whataya doin’?"

Sam nuzzled into the crook of his neck and kissed the skin of his shoulder. “I luh you, De," he muttered. “Ya know that? I luh ya." He bonks his head against Dean’s accidentally, and mumbled, “Ow…" before relaxing against him. “M’tired. M’gonna sleep."

"Sam—" Dean started, but then realized there was really no way for him to move his little brother, seeing as he was already two inches taller than him, and huffed, accepting his fate. “Fine," he breathed, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head, where his hair was most mussed. “Night, Sammy."


	2. Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester - Teen and Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wincest prompt - Sam somehow gets cursed (or Dean gets a wish come true) into being shorter than Dean, and Dean just eats it up, and then eats Sammy up too :3 lots of UST on Dean's side because he always says he wished Sam was little brother sized so he's like trying to screw him all the time. He fails.

They’d already been in Rockford for two and a half weeks, and they still had no idea who was terrorizing the city. It was obviously a witch - somewhere on or near every victim was a hex bag - however, there was no connection between those affected. At least, none that Sam or Dean could see. It was more than a little frustrating, especially considering the fact that the witch seemed to have taken a liking to the brothers.

Already she’d turned Dean into a girl (a girl on her period, no less - never again would Dean doubt how awful it is) for an entire week and taken complete control over Sam’s limbs and made him do some very embarrassing things. This witch wasn’t just any witch, obviously; she didn’t cause death and destruction, but rather, played jokes on her victims.

And yeah, most of the jokes she’d been playing hadn’t _really_ been harmful; if you looked at them in the right way, you could laugh at them. But this one… her latest curse was the worst yet. Apparently she had the ability to see into people’s heads; otherwise Dean had no clue how she could have known about his… _thing_ with Sam’s height.

Looking back, it was strange to have a thing for Sam’s height - it was strange to have a thing for your brother at all, but he wasn’t very privy to thinking about it - but there was just something about the thought of Sam being shorter than him (for the first time in almost seventeen years, mind) that just turned Dean on. Again, ignoring the fact that he shouldn’t have been turned on by anything at all about his brother.

Despite the fact that he knew there was no way she could have known (he’d never come across a witch that could read minds, let alone dig through someone’s head until they find the part of their mind that stores their secrets) he felt that somehow she had, and she’d been out to torture him. Because that was what she was doing, torturing him. With Sammy half a foot shorter than him again, he could hardly resist pouncing on him and holding him down, taking what he wanted without regret.

Somehow he managed to control himself.

Hell, he even managed to joke about it. To Sam, he was sure, he was the same old Dean; maybe a little annoyed, seeing as there was a witch on their tail, but still the same old Dean nevertheless. He intended to keep it that way. Who would want their little brother to know they had the hots for him? Certainly not Dean. Even though he _managed_ to joke about Sam’s… condition, however, didn’t mean he was doing very well at it. At times he tried too hard; this was one of those times.

"Little brother’s finally little brother-sized," Dean chuckled, plopping on the bed opposite the one Sam was sprawled out on. The younger was smaller in stature, skinny and lanky like he’d been at fourteen, as well as being shorter, but somehow he still managed to take up the whole bed. Or maybe Dean was hallucinating, because even if Dean stretched, he couldn’t cover the entire bed like Sam could.

“ _Shut. Up._ " Sam’s eyes were tightly shut, his mouth turned downward in that scowl that could be considered a ‘bitch face’ in a different context.

Dean chuckled, kicking his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. He took a quick drink from the glass of whiskey he clutched so tightly his knuckles were turning white, the alcohol seeming to mock him as it slid down his throat. How many times had he gone to a bar and drank until every guy that offered to spend the night with him looked like Sam? How many times had he laid awake at night, jerking off to the sight of his brother asleep in the bed next to him and thoughts of having him pinned to the mattress, moaning his name? _Dean… Fuck, DEAN…_ He could still hear the little whimpering noises his mind put together, drawing from the way he groaned when he was hurt and the quiet whines he would let out whenever he would jack off, the thin motel walls allowing Dean to hear every second. And how many times had he watched Sam drink a beer and pretended it was his dick those lips were wrapped around? If that wasn’t sick, Dean didn’t know what was.

He cleared his throat and took another drink, swirling the liquid, golden like Sam’s skin, around in the glass. “Maybe we should keep ya like this," he said, glancing over at his brother, who immediately shot him a glare. “Oh, c’mon, Sammy. You know I’m s’posed to be taller than you, I’m older."

Dean smirked and downed the rest of the drink, grimacing a little at the hint of a burn. Hopefully he could get a little tipsy (unlikely these days, but it was always worth a try) and get through the rest of the day. With the first day of mini-Sam so difficult already, he had no idea how he was going to survive the rest of the curse. If he was lucky the witch would show him some mercy and let Sam get back to normal quickly. If not… Well, he really didn’t care to think about that.

Of course, he had to look back at Sam right as he was licking his lips, his tongue moving so slowly along his ever-pink mouth that it was like he knew how hard it made Dean. He barely stifled a groan, and it took all his willpower not to pounce on him right then and there, shove his cock between those lips. Dean turned quickly, grabbing the a book - any book - off the cluttered table and throwing it at Sam. When it landed on his stomach, Sam let out a surprised _‘oof’_ that, if uttered louder, would have landed Dean with an uncomfortable bulge in his trousers.

"What the hell, De—"

"C’mon, Sammy, get to work. We got a witch to find."


End file.
